


Where'er you walk

by Automartyr (Brynnen)



Category: Frasier (TV)
Genre: Art, Artistic liberties with medicine, Brotherly Affection, Comfort, Communication, Cooking, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hopeless Effetery, Mental Health Issues, Niles cares about his patients, The Crane Brothers Actually Do Psychiatry, opera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9844055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynnen/pseuds/Automartyr
Summary: Frasier's protective instincts lay dormant for years after Niles grew up, but several hellish workdays bring them back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning - descriptions of extreme emotional distress and mental ill-health. Brief instances of violence.
> 
> These descriptions of mental health crises are not representative of all instances of illness, of course. If references to suicidal ideation and attempts are going to trigger you or are likely to cause excessive distress then hit that back button now please!
> 
> I haven't seen most of Frasier and only ever saw it when it was broadcast on UK television, so forgive any inaccuracies please.

It was a fundental truth in psychiatry that if a vulnerable patient was going to suffer a crisis in their condition they would inevitably do it at three o'clock in the morning. It was why Niles gave an emergency contact number to his most vulnerable patients, all the while hoping that none of them would ever have cause to use it. He was fresh out of luck that Thursday morning.

  
'Hello?' The screamed abuse and sobbing in the background of the call acted like a quart of coffee and Niles was hopping to get his shoes and coat on even as Mrs Halfpenny gasped out a please for help and gave him directions to her family home. Niles mentally calculated the journey length, then slashed the journey time by speeding and the fact there would be little traffic on the road.

  
'I'll be there in fifteen minutes, Mrs Halfpenny.' He grabbed the emergency bag he always hoped he'd never have to use again, swung a coat on and nearly ran out of the door. His patient was a vulnerable fifteen-year-old boy, whose violent outbursts were unpredictable and painfully self-destructive. He hoped he didn't get pulled over by the police as he sped through empty streets.

  
Joey was being restrained by his father howling and bawling so loudly it was a wonder no one had called the police yet. Mrs Halfpenny let Niles in, her face pinched with tiredness and distress.

  
'I woke up half an hour ago to find Joey in the kitchen cutting his arm up again. He was frantic with it and his Dad had to grab him to stop him from doing more damage. He even tried to bite me when I put gauze on the cuts he'd given himself.' Jane Halfpenny was clearly in emotional shock, but hd kept her wits about her, she and Joe Senior had probably saved their son's life that night.

  
Joe Senior was a great bear of a man, and while his son wasn't fully grown yet the boy was built like a lineback on his thin days and fighting like a tiger, wailing as he gave vent to the overwhelming feelings he couldn't articulate. Niles reached for the Tramadol and carefully drew down a dose that even with Joey's fluctuating weight would be both safe and effective. He nodded to Joe, who tightened and shifted his grip, ready to present Joey's arm for the drug.

  
The boy panicked, ripped his arm out of his father's grasp and swung at Niles, a wounded youth desperately avoiding yet another shot. Only Joe's yelp of shock gave Niles enough warming to flinch back, flinging his left arm up with a very girly squeal. The gesture may well have saved his life as the knife gashed the length of his arm from forearm to bicep, the knife at throat height.

  
His involuntary cry of pain startled Joey into dropping the knife his parents had been unable to pry from his fist. He turned into Joe Senior, burying his face in his father's chest in horror at what he'd done. Joe embraced him tightly, keeping him still and exposing his son's upper arm for Niles to tranquillise the teen.

  
Jane picked up the fallen knife and scurried towards the kitchen. Niles heard her locking drawers and cabinets as he performed first aid, layering yet more gauze along the whole of Joey's injured left arm.

  
'It looks as though the new SSRI hasn't reacted well with Joey's brain chemistry. I'll open a seven o'clock emergency slot for later this morning if you can bring him in then. We can try a more benign medication and talk through tonight's events, see if there was an identifiable to trigger to work on.' Niles adopted his most professional tones to cover up the way his hands were shaking.

  
'The early start could be hard.' Joe pointed out mildly. Joey probably wouldn't be seeing straight by that point. The large man easily held his son up as the tranquilliser left his muscles lax. Frivolously, Niles wondered if he could get the kind of darts used in zoos for situations like this.

  
'I like your jammies Dr Crane.' Joey interjected dopily.

  
'Indeed, but tonight's events needs addressing sooner rather than later to avoid repeat occurrences and since my practice does not open its doors until nine o'clock, Joey will have the quiet and space he will need for it.' Niles iterated his point with a calm he didn't feel.

  
Mr Halfpenny had to nod at that. 'We'll be there, won't we, Sport?' He ruffled his son's hair affectionately. 'First though, we need to get your arm taken care of.'

  
Niles wrapped his own arm in gauze and headed to the bathroom to wash up, making it to the basin just in time to vomit, squeezing his eyes shut as bile was wrenched from him in spasmodic heaves. He washed his hands and rinsed his mouth thoroughly, then put on his coat and took his leave from the family.

  
He drove to his apartment, took one of the low-dose emergency Temazepam he kept in the medicine cabinet for times such as these and listened to his heartrate gradually slow from a hummingbird's wingbeat to a a tempo more approximate to healthy. Indifferent cotton slowly crowded out the sick anxiety as the benzodopiate took effect and Niles felt well enough to check the cut.

  
He peeled back the bottom-most piece of gauze and tried not to faint as the pain flared. No, the length and depth of it were definitely beyond his ability to perform self-care. He'd passed all of his physical medical exams, but he'd always known psychiatry would be his real field. He'd leave this to the emergency room doctors at his local hospital, hoping as he drove there that he wouldn't bump into the Halfpenny family while there. His shattered nerves couldn't cope with any more stress prior to his first coffee of the day. He got there in one piece, sighed in relief at the absence of the Halfpennys and even managed to avoid fainting at any point, easier once the painkillers started to work through his system.

  
By half-six Niles had been patched up, had washed, shaved and drunk enough coffee to make his left leg vibrate constantly as he sat at his desk. With a sinking feeling he checked his diary and realised he was booked all the way through to seven pm. It was going to be a long day.

  
He flicked through the pharmocopia and pulled several recent journals from the bookshelves in his office to plan Joey's next course of treatment. Paroxetene was probably the most appropriate replacement, in spite of the risks of prescribing it to young adults. Joey had already seemingly suffered increased suicidal ideation with the Fluoextene, which was a singularly frustrating side-effect for an antidepressant to have. However, there was a trade off, in Paroxetene's growing body of evidence for efficacy in treating anxiety disorders. Given Joey's duel conditions and his own knowledge of the young man, Niles concluded that it might prove to be a more effective treatment for him.

  
The appointment was as successful as Niles could have hoped it to be. Joey was wrung out from the previous night's flare-up and very cooperative, guilt tinging his compliant words. Niles winced internally to use the youth's guilt to wring compliance from him, but if it helped back on the road to health then it was justified. Niles checked the painkillers and antibiotics prescribed by the hospital and was able to confirm they would not interact with the new prescription. Mr and Mrs Halfpenny nodded along to his list of contraindications and warning signs before the three of them left to go home for a nice long nap. Niles stared after them with a pang of envy.

  
His receptionist shook her head at the sling. 'Another mishap, Dr Crane?'

  
She tied his necktie for his adroitly and smoothed his hair into place, stepping back to check he looked orderly and nodded in satisfaction.

'Your nine o'clock is here already, Mrs Riga.'

  
Niles inhaled deeply through his nose and gestured for Mrs Riga to be let in.

  
His left leg was still vibrating ten hours later, hidden by his desk as his last patient of the day bemoaned his relationship with his mother, self-pityingly dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. Niles hummed an occasional encouragement, but his heart wasn't in it and he wanted to sigh in relief when at last the session was over.

  
After jotting down enough further notes on the session to act as an aide memoire he was able to finish his workday at last, some sixteen-odd hours after it had brutally started and as he stood to leave Niles swayed with tiredness, the stress of the day still twisting at his insides. He was getting too old for days like this.

  
Frasier was trying to conceal his worry from the others and suspected he was not succeeding. Ever since the divorce had been completed hardly a day passed without his little brother dropping by on some flimsy pretext or another in order to moon over Daphne. Yesterday Niles had been visiting an antiques shop, so today Frasier had set the table with an extra place, only for Niles not to arrive. He hoped Niles hadn't worked himself up into a state and was sat at home fit to burst with stress. Frasier decided to check up on him, trying to squash down the concern he felt.

  
Frasier picked up some Chinese take-out on the way over - if Niles was indeed an anxious mess then hopefully it might serve as a distraction.

His little brother didn't answer the door and Frasier debted with himself for a moment before letting himself in with the spare key. Niles was prone on the fainting-couch and Frasier sighed in relief, things couldn't be too bad if he were still out in the open and not hiding under the piano.

  
'Hello Niles, I come bearing Chinese.'

  
Niles blinked awake, so tired that he felt confused and he stared at his brother dumbly, trying to work out what was going on. His mind felt foggy with exhaustion and Frasier's presence was baffling. He should be at home with dad and Daphne.

  
Evidently his thought process was too slow for Frasier as his brother vanished into the kitchen and started clattering around, making himself quite at home. Niles hauled himself to his feet, only whimpering a very little when he tried to support his weight on his left arm momentarily out of force of habit.

  
Niles leant in the doorframe and observed his elder brother bustling about, fetching plates and choosing an appropriate wine. 'I'm not fit company for man or beast tonight.' He warned diffidently.

  
'Bad day?'

  
'Long day.' Niles corrected, aware of Frasier's tendency to try and solve problems and having had his fill of psychiatry for the day.

  
'A good meal will help, Didn't you get that new recording of Tosca the other day? Why don't we listen to it while we eat?' So it was hopelessly melodramatic and oh so very Italian, but it was beautiful and should help to distract Niles from his woes.

  
Niles realised he must look bad enough that his brother's mother hen instincts had been roused. At this point utter capitulation was absolutely the wisest course of action for escaping without too much exasperation. He did enjoy that recording, so listening to Tosca two nights in a row would be a pleasure. He nodded and headed to the bathroom to make himself presentable.

  
The face that stared back at him from the mirror was grey with tiredness, mouth lined with pain. No wonder Frasier was feeling attentive. Niles washed up and then sank into the soft cuschions of his couch, leaving room for Frasier.

  
Frasier sighed in pleasure as the final notes of Puccini's opera drew to a close. He could never tired of such beauty and he turned to say as much to Niles, but smiled when he realised he'd fallen asleep at some point. Frasier carefully spread a blanket over his little brother and tip-toed out carefully.

  
Niles was woken by his 'phone ringing at half two Friday morning. This time it was the police. 'Have you got a patient called Donald Barnaby?' Niles confirmed as much. 'He's with us and threatening to jump off a bridge. He said you've got to help.'

  
Again Niles mentally checked the map, calculating journey times. 'I'll be there in under twenty minutes, Officer.'

  
Donald had been in remission again, even weaning himself off his medications under Niles' supervision. Niles swore under his breath and floored the gas as he raced to the scene. Driving this fast with only one fully functional arm was unsafe, but then again, so was Don's current state.

  
'Doctor Crane here, can I see Don?' Niles demanded of the first uniformed officer he met at the scene. He tamped down the sick feeling in his belly as he hefted the emergency bag once again.

  
Don was pacing manically beside the bridge parapet, clearly warring with himself, as a line of police officers observed him cautiously at a safe distance. 'Hey Doctor Crane. I'm in a bad way here. I know this isn't the way, but you gotta help me.'

  
Niles approached slowly, keeping his body language at ease, exuding a tranquility he didn't feel as his professional demeanour came to the fore. 'I'm listening to you Don. I'm here, so why don't you tell me how we got here.'

  
Niles kept his voice calm and his face schooled into careful neutrality as he gave Donald his full attention. The atmosphere was tense and he tried to divert Don's nervous energy away from the edge and into a less dangerous direction. It was slow going, but it had taken Don five hour-long sessions even to admit to Niles that he had a problem, Niles was used to operating in largo ma tranquillo fashion with him. At last Don moved away from the railing and a police officer moved swiftly to place herself between Don and the edge.

  
The fast movement caught Don's attention, stoking his suspicion back to a fever pitch. Niles caught his sleeve gently, hoping to divert him from rushing back towards the railings. 'It's okay Don, you're doing....'  
Niles' hasty move had been singularly unwise and Don spun, lashing out frantically, punching Niles hard. As Niles dropped he was aware of everything devolving into chaos.

  
By the time Niles managed to struggle into a sitting position on the road two police officers had tackled Don and were practically sat on him. Blood streamed from Niles' nose and someone passed him a tissue that became saturated unnervingly fast. 'Hab you perchance stobbed taking all of your medicines?'

  
Don nodded sheepishly and the two burly police officers pulled Don up to a vaguely upright position as they realised the doctor was still trying to talk to him. 'You said to reduce them, I was feeling good and figured I was ready to quit takin' 'em entirely. I didn't realise I was getting worse again until tonight I can't sleep for all the nagging thoughts, I go for a walk and bam! I'm crossing the bridge and I realise that killing myself would be the smartest thing to do. Except it isn't.' He tried to shrug, only to seemingly remember he was being restrained.

  
Niles sighed, tasting blood as he did. 'Cad we sid in the car for dis?' He asked the police officer restraining Don and got a nod in reply. A thick-set uniformed officer lifted him up bodily when it became apparent that with one arm in a sling and the other occupied stemming the blood streaming from his nose he had no chance of getting up unaided. He lifted Niles easily and set him down with a companiable pat on the shoulder.

  
One impromptu counselling session later, having impressed upon Don the importance of complying with his medication schedule, Niles left Don to be taken home in a police car and headed for his own home. By his reckoning he could be in bed by four am and if he hurried in the morning he could get up at eight and still manage to get to his first appointment on time. He ached all the way down to his bones, he was so tired and aching that the expected nervous reaction couldn't break through the fog of exhaustion and he fell asleep within seconds of getting to bed.

  
Martin sighed appreciatively at the coffee and danish before looking to Lou Alvarez, one of the last rookies he'd training during his long career.

  
'I'll tell you something, that son of yours might be built like a rake and he might have more book-smarts than sense, but he takes after his old man, staying on the case day and night. It was a pretty routine jumper case, but for the guy giving us his attending physician's contact number. Plenty of shrinks in the world woulda just told us to ship the perp's sorry ass to a psych ward rather than drive across town at two in the morning to take care of it himself, but your boy was out there, doing his job.'

  
Martin grinned to hear that. His boys might exasperate him to high Hell with their ridiculous effete ways and their childishness, but they were good boys and it always warmed him when other people recognised that too.

  
When Niles didn't turn up to dinner a second night running Frasier excused himself. 'I'm going over to Niles' for some manly time with my brother.'

  
Martin and Daphne frowned a little at his pompous announcement. 'So, opera then.' Daphne guessed.

  
'Naw, I reckon it'll be a bitching session about local art galleries session. I know Niles was disappointed in the stuff available at his local one.' Martin countered happily. It meant he could watch the game without distractions or comments about the Seahawks' chances and it sounded like the boys were getting on well.

  
This time Niles was sprawled on the fainting couch with a ice-pack balanced over his eyes. His entire posture was tense, to the point it made Frasier feel tense. At the sound of the door shutting he pulled the ice-pack down to look at what was happening, revealing a swollen red and and a nicely developing pair of sympathetic black eyes.

Combined with the sling he looked utterly pathetic.

  
In one fell swoop Frasier was transported back to their schooldays, watching his nervy, awkward, beloved little brother trying and failing to find common ground with his peers. His gut clenched and all Frasier wanted to do was scoop him him into an engulfing, brotherly hug like he could have done when he'd been seven or eight.

  
Instead he channelled his emotions more obliquely. Frasier guessed that Niles had spent his leisure time too busy feeling sorry for himself to bother eating and formed a plan.

  
'Have you got the fixings to make a quiche in your kitchen?' Niles nodded, stomach rumbling loudly. 'Hmmm, let's take a look, maybe whip up a batch of beignets for dessert to keep the French theme going.'

  
Frasier tied an apron about his waist and set to rummaging through his brother's kitchen cabinets, humming under his breath as a menu began to take shape in his mind. He could hear Niles moving around behind him and grinned, nothing roused a Crane brother from a brown study faster than the prospect of a gourmet dinner.

  
Niles had to smile as Frasier hummed a rousing refrain of the Anvil Chorus as he set to work on the pastry. He couldn't help but add his own voice as he went to the fridge and fetched eggs and milk for the filling. 'How about a Quiche Lorraine? I have some bacon and a chunk of decent Gruyere if you're interested.'

  
'Mmmmm, sounds good.' Frasier hummed with pleasure at the smell of the cheese, tactfully not commenting on the way Niles struggled with having the use of only one arm as he chopped the bacon, shallots and herbs.

  
The beignets almost melted in their mouths and Frasier dusted sugar from his fingertips. They really were best fresh from the pan and he felt a little proud at his patisserie skills as Niles licked the remaining sugar from his own fingertips with a satisfied air. There was some liveliness in his movements now and he didn't look as if he might faint from hunger any more.

  
'Have you found anything decent in the galleries recently? My last two visits to JoJo's were a bitter disppointment.'

  
Frasier shook his head. 'I know!' The pair compared notes on stock, prices and favoured artists until Niles yawned widely, startling them both. It was barely nine, but Frasier stretched and stood to leave.

  
'This was fun, do you want to go to see the Renoir exhibition tomorrow? Daphne had a girl-friend crisis this morning and can't come.' Privately he suspected the crisis might have been manufactured and that his father's carer was just trying to politely extricate herself from the engagement, given how uninterested she'd been in the Manets last time they'd gone to a museum together.

  
Martin held out his hand to collect the dollar he'd won off Daphne when Frasier came home happily twittering about the current state of the Seattle art scene. 'Don't make bets with detectives, Daphne. I don't jabber on all the time, but that doesn't mean I don't take notice of things.'

  
Daphne hugged Janice and left the cafe they'd met up in. A good natter did the world of good and her excuse to Dr Crane hadn't been untrue as such - Janice had sounded blue on the 'phone and she'd been worried. But she still felt bad about blowing off Doctor Crane, he always seemed to enjoy his art museum trips more when he had company.

  
Daphne sighed, French painters just weren't generally her cup of tea. If someone put a gun to her head and forced her to express an arty opinion then she'd admit she'd enjoyed some of the paintings she'd seen by that Holbein fellow, but really the whole lot of it was just dead boring.

  
There was nothing for it, she felt too guilty not to go, so Daphne headed towards the bus stop, hoping that Mr Crane was enjoying his morning out more than she was likely to enjoy hers.

  
The museum was busy with culture-lovers spending their weekend filling their minds with the cultural delights their nine to five jobs paid for and the two brothers fit right in with the crowd. Frasier and Niles hadn't made it to the Renoir exhibition yet, having been distracted by another exhibit of sets and costumes produced by the Met in previous seasons.

Niles stared at the Queen of the Night's magnifient, elaborate gown. 'Does this remind you of something?' His tone was perplexed.

  
Frasier moved away from Papageno's feathered outfit to stand beside him. 'Hmmm, there is something familiar... Hah! Remember that awful Christmas ball she threw, the masked one?'

  
Niles shuddered, remembering the Pierrot costume Maris had ordered from him. 'Oh my, you're right!' He laughed, but the chuckle had an alarmingly dark tone.

  
Frasier guessed at his line of thought. 'How very appropriate; powerful, wealthy, manipulative.'

  
'Gets the nearest man to do her dirty work... I bet the Queen of the Night was the sort to throw expensive gilded Wedgewood when she didn't get her own way too.' Niles chucked, absently rubbing at his left shoulder.

  
Frasier felt a chill. 'I'm glad you managed to get out and of that and still retain some dignity.' He said, supremely grateful his brother had extricated himself from that toxic environment with his sanity intact.

He thought of the chilling final scene of Kata Kabanova, by the Volga and concealed a shiver. Had they not discovered the source of Maris' wealth would they be dredging a metaphorical river now?

  
Niles shuddered violently and turned away abruptly. 'Where are the Renoirs?' He set off briskly, leaving Frasier stood on his own by the offending gown.

  
Frasier pondered whether to press the matter, but a roiling in his gut reminded him that it was not goor practice for a physician to psychoanalyse friends and relatives. He put the thought aside and followed his brother instead. He'd been looking forward to this exhibit.

  
Daphne followed the signs to the much-vaunted exhibition and cast her eyes around for Dr Crane. There he was and with Dr Crane too! She called out to them, feeling glad that she'd done the right thing.

Then the younger Dr Crane turned around and she gasped. 'What on Earth happened?'

  
Niles could feel himself flushing in embarrassment at her rather tactless question, hot on on the heels of his rather uncomfortable conversation with Frasier, scraped across raw nerves.

'There were two separate incidents, two patients had rather dramatic cries for help.' It was a truthful understatement and he shivered at the memory of Don stood at the railings staring down into the freeing water. Don had been more shocking for being completely unexpected.

  
'Are you okay?'

  
Any other day and such a solicitous question from Daphne would have been music to his ears, but today it just sparked a hot surge of irritation in him. Did Daphne think Frasier would have let him out of the house if he'd thought Niles wasn't well enough to be out? 'Of course, everything has been treated and I amd complying with my primary physician's instructions.'

  
Frasier saw the way Niles' jaw clenched with vexation. 'Daphne, can you imagine for a second that I would keep him from his bed if I had the slightest inkling he wasn't fit to be up and about?'

  
Daphne had to smile at Dr Crane the elder coming to his younger brother's defence. 'You're right, doctors. I'm sorry Dr Crane, the black eyes and sling surprised me.'

  
Niles nodded and acceptance of her apology, then turned to look at the painting he stood before. He was surprised to realise that he didn't feel the normal glow of pleasure Daphne's company engendered within him. He didn't object to her presence and he had to admit the additional company was pleasant enough, but the customary heady rush of delight Niles felt in Daphne's presence was absent. Fortunately the museum's amazing displays more than made up for that.

  
The two brothers dropped Daphne off at home and then headed for Cafe Nervosa. Frasier felt there was something left unsaid between them, had been since the Met's display. They wryly wrinkled their noses at the other's choice of coffee before settling into the comfortable chairs.

  
'I think my attraction to Daphne might be platonic.' Niles announced.

  
'She is a nice woman.' Frasier replied, nervous about how close this was coming to a confessional, or therapy session. He grimaced as his stomach twinged.

  
'It's alright Frasier, I just want to tell you how I feel. There is no need for you to act in a professional manner here.' Niles' nervy sensitivity had picked up on the direction of his brother's thoughts. 'You know to an extent how unhappy my married life was and what a contrast Daphne is with Maris - how easily Daphne shows concern and affection in particular. My infatuation was, I think, in part a response to a perceived lack of care in my other interpersonal relationships.'

  
Frasier made the mental leap easily and grimaced, he'd though Niles had known, recognised that his exasperated affection for him had never faded, but Maris had done a number on his self-esteem. It had been useful to her for Niles to feel somewhat isolated and to be unaware of those around him's fondness.

  
That comment 'to some degree' made Frasier angry. What had Maris got up to behind closed doors? Had Niles actually got better at concealing his emotions, or had his neuroticism merely reached a nadir that his outward presentations could not reflect? He pulled away from such brooding thoughts, here and now he could have an effect, the past would remain static.

  
'I'm glad you realised. We should have man-time more often.'

  
Niles brightened. 'I'd like that. It's hard finding other people who want to go to see that latest production of Bluebeard's Castle or Lucia de Lammermoore. Strangely I never have any difficulty finding company for the latest Die Fledermaus production.'

  
Frasier grinned. 'There's a production of Kuhlau's Lulu coming up next month.

  
Niles' face lit up.


End file.
